


Whatever happens

by My_Coffee_Is_Hot_Chocolate



Series: A/B/O fics in the same universe [2]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Hotshot is a badass, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mpreg, Other Newsies may be mentioned, We stan a good boy named Kenny, kill me, not graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-10-30 06:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20810063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Coffee_Is_Hot_Chocolate/pseuds/My_Coffee_Is_Hot_Chocolate
Summary: I never thought I'd write this because I hate A/B/O with a passion, but someone wrote a good fic and now I'm hooked.Hotshot is having the worst day ever when his little secret is leaked. It gets worse from there.





	1. A horrid start

There were things people knew. 

1\. Alphas were the strongest. Betas were just human. Omegas were weak.

2\. Brooklyn was all Alphas. It's how they held power over the other burrows of New York. Seven people who were stronger, faster, and tougher then any other. And they all worked together, rare for a pack. Sure, Alphas were in other burrows. Many worked together. But they also had betas and omegas mixed in.

But the seven of them could and would decimate entire packs. Spot Conlon, the fearless leader, was well known for busting open a mob boss' head. He was short, but if there was a alpha's alpha, it was him.

_3\. Brooklyn could not have a omega._

But they did, he was just very good at hiding it. How was anyone's guess, but he'd fought his way to being second in command.

And no one would ever dare try and throw Hotshot out of that position. He'd worked his ass off to be where he was, he seemed more like an alpha then Spot Conlon. 

Hotshot had it damn good to. Not a soul had ever learned. His scent was weak, and since he was around alphas all day it usually stuck on him. No one questioned his status, not since he'd fled home.

He regretted leaving his mother. But he was both an omega born to beta parents, and only interested in men.

The newsies didn't care, he found. He wasn't shameful. He was an asset. A knight. He was proud as could be. And in his mind, no one would ever know.

But, like all good things, that too one day came to an end.

It was weeks after the strike. Fighting for children's rights. A cause that Brooklyn had happily helped champion. But now, things had settled. Life was normal, even with the rise in papers.

Hotshot was selling in his usual spot, in Prospect Park. He was feeling entirely normal. And then it happened. It never had before, only once before he became a Newsie.

And there was no hiding that smell. And if he wanted to stay in Brooklyn, he had to leave until it was over. He pulled his cap over his eyes, clutching his paper bag. He had to be fast, before someone he knew found him. 

The walk to Manhattan felt like it took days, even though it was only a few hours. The fear that something would happen or someone would find out terrified him. He knew he was lucky. But if only he was luckier. He needed more luck.

He tried to remember the way to their lodging house. The simple plan was pay, sell here until it was over, and go home. And hopefully the sheer number of people in Manhattan would cover his scent. 

That went off the rails almost immediately. 

He passed by someone who knew him. Someone who definitely noticed what he smelled like. Racetrack Higgens, Spot's boyfriend. He'd been around Hotshot before, enough to know who he was. And everyone ever knew that smell.

Race grabbed his arm. "Hotshot?"

Hotshot froze. What could he do? What should he do? What would happen if Race told? He'd tell, for sure. Race had nothing to lose and no kind of obligation, he was a beta after all. 

Race sniffed the air before his eyes widened. "You're a omega? I mean, I thought you may not be an alpha, a beta maybe, but… Damn you're the swolest omega I've ever seen."

Hotshot's panic built up more and more as Race continued to not let go. His brain was screaming at him to run, to flee. Every cell in his body was screaming at him to run, but he was frozen to the spot. 

Race saw this. And Hotshot felt the change in the air. Race didn't see him as superior or even equal now, though he probably wasn't thinking that. The thing he'd tried for years to hide would already be affecting him minutes after it was discovered. 

"Let's get you back, before someone gets the hots for you." Race says, hoping Hotshot knew what that meant. He didn't want his friend to wind up mated or pregnant by some random person.

Hotshot followed, not sure if seeming intimidating or meek would work best. There was no hiding what was going on, and he may have been less likely to receive glares and hostilities if he seemed like a more meek, more typical omega. 

He hated himself for even considering it. One moment he's proud and tall, and the next he's hunched over and hoping no one dangerous finds him. 

Oh how the mighty have fallen…

Race took him to the lodging house. Most newsies were home. Which meant everyone looked up when the door opened and the very obvious smell wafted in. 

Hotshot felt like crying. He'd been hoping to keep it quiet, but instead he was being practically paraded. He was wearing Brooklyn colors, there was no mistaking him.

Brooklyn's second in command was outed. And he'd never be allowed home. 

And he was in a house full of people he didn't know and no idea who would do what. And in heat. 

The scent of alphas put him on edge. Most were muted though, probably marked. But there were a few strong ones, and those were the ones that scared him. He resisted his instincts. These weren't people he'd want to spend the rest of his life with because his body was a traitor.

He rushed to put down his information in the book, fear taking hold as he heard someone get up behind him. Before they could reach him, he rocketed up the stairs and threw himself into a bed.

An occupied bed.

An occupied bed with a cute boy who had the distinct smell of being an alpha. 

This was the worst fucking day.


	2. Buttered bread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In comes the cutie pie.

The two stared at each other for a good five seconds before Hotshot booked it out. He found the fire escape and was half way out before he was caught and dragged back inside. 

He struggled and bit and kicked to get away, but whoever it was held him firm. He was surrounded by a fairly nice scent, almost exactly what he'd discribe as perfect. He wanted to relax. Fucking hormones. 

He kept struggling until he tired himself out. If the person holding him talked, Hotshot never heard it until he was panting from exhaustion. Then he was dragged back to the bunk and tucked in. By himself, he noted with a note of pleasure.

He finally looked up to see the boy from earlier grabbing pillows from a closet. He was blond, almost dirty blond. His skin was pale, and his eyes were crystal blue. And that scent was so enticing…

Hotshot looked away. He wasn't giving in. He would be fine. It would go away. At most in a few days. He just had to be cautious. 

His planning of defences was cut off by pillows being placed around him. What the fuck was going on? Why was he slowly being made center of a nest? 

He watched in amazed and confused awe as this random massively attractive boy made a nest all around him. It felt nice. It was warm and secluded and never once did the boy touch him or try to enter once it was done. It made him feel decently safe.

He really hoped it wasn't the 'must make baby' part of his brain that was feeling safe. He was not going to be woed. Fuck that. He was fine without an alpha, he didn't want to be controlled and made into a little house helper.

He was still wide awake and considering his options when someone knocked on the bedpost. Sheets had been hung as curtains around the bed, so he couldn't see or smell outside easily. Erring on the side of caution, Hotshot didn't open the curtain. "Who's there?" 

A soft, Irish accented voice replied. "I got you some dinner, if you'd like." 

Hotshot considered his options. Food seemed really appealing. His stomach was rumbling for food. But what if lack of food was what kept his heat away all these years?

The smell of buttered bread seeped through the curtain. There was no resisting that smell. He moved the sheet to the side. 

The boy holding a plate of pure heaven was the same one from earlier. His hair was under a typical newsboy's cap now, shading his face a little from the dying sunlight flooding the room.

Hotshot was hesitant to reach for the food though. What if this boy expedited something in return? Something he wasn't willing to give?

The boy probably smelled his fear. "It's okay, I won't hurt you. Can I sit?" How polite he was was shocking. An alpha asking permission? To sit down? That was as forign as China. 

As tempted as he was to exercise his newfound power, the bread smelled too good. "Yeah, of course." He sat up a little to make room, and the boy sat in the freshly allocated space. 

As he was handed buttered roll after apple, Hotshot worked in some questions. "What's your name?" He got out between bites of buttered heaven.

The boy put down his apple. "Kenny Conners. You're Hotshot, right?" Kenny looked at him with the most beautiful blue gaze. It didn't feel piercing, like Spot. It was comforting. He found himself wanting to tell this not-stranger everything.

He quickly squashed the feeling. "Yeah, that's me. Thanks for the nest, by the way. It's comfy." He polished off the bread and moved on to the apple. 

"It's no problem. I'm sorry I scared you, I understand why you would be." Kenny was just full of surprises. "I kinda hoped this would serve as a nice 'I'm sorry'? And my ma was always super protective of her nest, said that it made her feel safe. I kinda was thinking you'd like it to?" He sounded nervous, like he was scared to say something wrong.

Hotshot was absolutely floored. Kenny was seriously considering him, and what made him feel safe? Hell, he hadn't known about the nest thing. Who knew Manhattan had an alpha who knew his shit?

The blond boy stood up. "I'll take the top bunk. Do you think you'll be able to sell tomorrow?" The last question was phrased delicately. He didn't want to upset him, even if he couldn't quite place why.

Hotshot looked at his feet. Would it be fainter tomorrow? He had to hope. "I will. Good night." The events of the day and his full belly made his grip on reality loosen. He watched the sheet close, wrapping him in darkness. 

He cuddled up among the pillows, their warm musty smell was comforting. It was his own space to make his, and he didn't need to let anyone else in unless he wanted. 

He fell asleep wrapped up in warm, happy darkness. 

He woke up much the same way, only light was shining through the sheet. He blinked a little and rolled over, he really didn't feel good. Did he have to get up today?

He stayed where he was until the buzz of conversation around him began to fade. He reluctantly sat up and pushed the sheet aside to get up. 

He checked that there weren't many people left. There were just enough left that he probably wasn't late. If he booked it, he could be there when the gates opened. He pulled up his suspenders and grabbed his hat and paperbag. 

He looked out the window. The sun was up, but it was a Sunday so he'd gotten away with it. He'd need to wake up earlier tomorrow.

He sniffed to himself. One day in and already he was making future plans. It's not like he wanted to be here. 

He flew down the stairs and out the door, giving the old man taking names just enough time to count him. He was fast, and after years of pretending he had the same stamina as his friends he could run for a while. Thankfully, the gate wasn't that far away. He wasn't even winded when he stopped. 

He joined the line of Newsies waiting to get their papers. Hoping that somehow, today would be better.

What a stupid wish.


	3. Stand up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hotshot's first day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Tw for attempted rape**

Hotshot waited patiently as the line filled in behind him, and grew shorter to the front. There were so many smells in the air that he felt decently protected, it would be hard to pick out one smell in dozens. Much less find whoever's it was. 

But then again the man prowling down the line was coming straight for him. Fear rose in his chest. Would anyone intervene if he was dragged away? Should he run?

Turned out he didn't have to. The target was a boy behind him. He glanced back before staring ahead. He had to worry about himself, he couldn't put himself at risk. 

Then the kid yelped. A kid. Didn't sound a day older than 10. Hotshot could not stand for that. He whirled around and left the line, not caring about loosing his spot. "HEY!!"

The person -an alpha from the smell- turned around. A downright mean look on his face. "You wanna take his place punk?"

Hotshot didn't hesitate to get in his face. "Yeah, this punk has an issue with you picking on a kid." He growled. He was good at acting like an alpha, and he was told he was plenty intimidating. 

The person stepped back until he caught a whiff of Hotshot's smell. A low growl built up in his throat, and the smaller boy realized he may have put himself in serious trouble. 

Thankfully, the other stepped in. "Oscar, stop. You'll just get in trouble." 

Hotshot felt his glare even as he gathered his papers and left. Something felt off. He was scared. He huddled in on himself, trying to plan how to defend himself. He walked as fast as he could. 

He wondered if this is what the omegas he'd seen scurrying across streets felt like. Scared and defenceless. Even though he knew full well he could defend himself. 

Fuck his instincts, he didn't need an alpha! He was fine by himself!

He sold in the morning just fine. He played up the sympathy card as hard as he could, but mostly relied on inflated headlines. Ships sinking, trollies crashing, a political scandal, what else was new?

It was going back for the noon edition that made his skin crawl again. 'Oscar' kept leering at him. It made him nervous, like he had to look over his shoulder. He was even twitchy. Hotshot was not a twitchy person. 

But the afternoon went fine as well, and Oscar continued to leave him alone. He felt more and more on the edge. What was that creep aiming for? 

The evening edition cleared things up. 

He'd gotten his papers. Fine and dandy. And there was no trace of Oscar, which made him feel leagues better. And he even spotted Kenny, who smiled warmly at him. Hotshot smiled back, a strange feeling spreading from his heart outwards. 

He was walking past an alley when he was grabbed. Mouth covered and arms quickly grabbed. 

Without wasting a second, Hotshot bit down on the hand covering his mouth and stomped with all his might. Whoever it was didn't let go, just slammed him into a wall. The rough brick scraped his face, and he had the dreadful feeling of what was going to happen. 

Whoever it was tried to slip his suspenders off, presumably to get at his neck. Aw hell no.

Hotshot got his hands back under him and pushed off the wall with all his might. His back knocked into someone else, and the second he was free he ran as fast as he could. He didn't even care he was throwing away his money. He needed to get away. 

He ran back to the lodging house, throwing a few coins in the direction of Kloppman and hurtling up the stairs and to his nest. He curled up under the blankets, the fear from the situation catching up to him.

He started to shake. That had almost happened. And he'd probably get pregnant if it had. And if whoever it was -probably Oscar- was doing what he thought he was going to…

He didn't want to think about that. He never wanted to think about that.

He stayed curled up, the incident eating at him until the other boys came upstairs for bed. Hotshot was glad for the curtains hiding him.

Someone knocked on the bedpost again. "Hotshot? It's Kenny, is something wrong?" It took all of a second for him to be yanked inside the little nest and wrapped up in a tight hug.

Kenny felt a surge of protectiveness. "Hey, what happened? Are you okay?" He gently brushed hair from his face and did a quick check of his neck. He wasn't bleeding, and he didn't smell different, besides the distinct smell of fear.

He closed the curtain and curled himself around the smaller boy. He'd get food later, once his new friend calmed down. He'd ask about what happened then. 

After a while and a couple tears, Hotshot pulled away. His eyes were puffy, but he seemed mostly back to normal. 

Kenny wiped away a tear and sat up. "I'll get you some dinner." Before he could leave, his arm was grabbed. 

He looked back to see Hotshot trembling. His scent was overwhelmingly fear. What had happened to generate this? The fear even overpowered the incredibly strong scent of heat. 

Kenny scooped him up. He needed food, and if he didn't want to be left alone this would have to do. It worked surprisingly well. His scent went back to normal almost, and he cuddled against his chest.

It was as surprising to Hotshot as to anyone. He'd always actively avoided doing this. But now all he wanted was the safe feeling. And he couldn't manage to suppress his instincts. God he hated this, but he loved it at the same time. He was a strong independent person! Even if the world wanted him to be weak.

Of course his kryptonite was placed on him. 3 rolls of buttered bread and _watermelon_. He's kiss whoever gave that to him. He honestly would. 

He couldn't quite bring himself to eat yet though. He had no idea why, but something was saying to wait. And he, reluctantly, did. 

Who knew what would happen next?


	4. So big

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Normalcy can change in a moment.

At first, it was entirely normal. They ate the buttered rolls, the watermelon, and talked the night away. Talking about everything, and nothing. 

Hotshot had been sat at one end of the nest bed. Kenny at the other. But by the time they fell asleep, they were tangled up together. And in a manner most wouldn't have expected.

They lay equal, foreheads touching. The usual portrayal of omegas were tucked against their mate's chest. Of course, any functional couple could tell you it really depended on the pair. But they were few and far between. 

They held hands through the night. Even if one shifted around in their sleep, they still held on to each other. 

The next morning didn't quite feel awkward. But it wasn't normal either. It was the weird in between. 

Hotshot woke to his nose against Kenny's. He vaguely remembered falling asleep like that. He wasn't complaining, his face was a beautiful one to wake to. His eyes were closed, but his fair skin and dusty blond curls had an eerie beauty of their own in the dark. Like he was a fairy of old. 

He raised his hand to trace his cheek. Anyone would be lucky for such a fine looking alpha. And he was kind to, whoever he chose would really be lucky. 

Said boy woke up a little to cuddle closer. His hands moved to Hotshot's hair, gently threading his fingers through it. They wanted to spend the morning nestled beside each other. But, as it was a Monday, the bell rang in perfect disturbance.

Kenny sighed. "Off we go, into the wild blue yonder." He sang, looking to start the day off even better.

"Lost again," Hotshot continued, smiling. 

"Sonava bitch!" They finished together, giggling like schoolboys. They sat up to get ready, but continually glancing back at each other. They smiled at each time they caught each other. 

Race saw and rolled his eyes. "Flirting, have they no shame?" He complained to Albert, leaning on his friend like a post.

Albert shoved him off. "Like you know how, all you and Conlon ever do is fuck."

Race's face turned red, much to the amusement of their acquired audience. Hotshot laughed in his face. Kenny elbowed him. "What you get for commenting on other people's relationships Racer." He teased.

Race shoved him. "Fuck off Conners. I didn't make my boyfriend a fucking nest."

It was Hotshot's turn to do some shoving. And being a good deal stronger then Race, he easily pushed the scrawny boy to the ground. "You wanna say that again?" He asked, eyes flashing dangerously.

The blond quickly shook his head while Kenny fell more in love. Yep, he wanted this one. Tough as nails, strong, sweet, protective, everything he'd ever wanted in a mate. He wanted to know that's what Hotshot wanted to, though.

Hotshot, meanwhile, had released Racetrack. He was still out for blood, but it could wait. He took Kenny's hand, leading him outside and to the circulation gate. He was seething that Race would say something like that! The nest was amazing! 

He spent the time in line planning Race's murder until he saw Oscar. He felt irrationally scared in that moment. But he stood his ground. Fear would give him another chance. 

The way Oscar looked at him, he didn't think fear would keep him away. He had to think of something fast. 

Of course, he didn't think about it until the evening edition. He was caught up, Kenny baugut him a cookie and they sold together that afternoon. They walked hand in hand to and from the gate when a whiff of smell caught both their noses. 

Hotshot stopped dead. Oscar. He was waiting in that alley again. Kenny had the same idea. "Let's cross the street. Is that what happened last night?"

Hotshot nodded as they rushed across. It wouldn't stop, but they had probably disrupted his plan. But that didn't help him feel safer. That just made him scared that he'd try again. 

He needed a plan and fast.

He looked at Kenny. An idea, a bad bad idea popped into his head. But it'd work. And they definitely could work. They got along, and Kenny seemed in to him…

He stopped mid stride. It'd be permanent. But it'd work. And it was going to happen eventually by force. He'd read in the papers that a law was in the works for all omegas to be mated by 21. He wouldn't have to deal with that, if he went through with this. 

But he needed to ask Kenny. He was the best alpha he knew and the only one he trusted to not restrict him. 

Kenny looked incredibly confused. "Hotshot, why did you stop?" 

Hotshot looked up at the slightly taller boy. "When we get home, mark me." He said. His voice was full of conviction, enough that Kenny took an actual step back. 

He shook his head to see if he could shake loose whatever made him hear that. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I didn't hear it right."

Hotshot looked him dead in the eye. "I want you to mark me." He said again. He was dead set on this plan now. All or nothing.

Kenny was shocked into silence. He stared ahead, trying to think clearly enough to answer anything. Hotshot walked next to him, staring ahead. He seemed calm on the outside, but internally he was freaking out. What if Kenny said no? He was screwed for sure. 

They didn't talk until they were outside of the lodging house. Kenny spoke first after thinking long and hard. "If we're doing that, we should pretend we have privacy." 

Hotshot nodded. "We should."

Before he could realize he was moving again, he and Kenny were half way down the street. He was lost until they stopped in front of a dark theater. Kenny glanced at him. Hotshot nodded. 

They snuck in to the theater, finding a barely used spot. What they did was lost to the darkness.

But when they were finished a few somethings were different.

A few very big somethings. And one very small.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can guess the somethings I'll give you a shout-out in the next chapter!


	5. So small

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life just never stays good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to SpectresWonderland!!

It wasn't immediate.

When they first woke up, home in the little nest that they'd probably share for the rest of their time there, everything felt normal. The awkwardness was gone, only affection and care. The marks left were healing, Hotshot's heat seemed to have gone, and both were fully ready to start taking on life together.

Oscar left them alone, they got wolf whistled, and Race seemed sulky that he really would be the last one to be officially mated at this rate. 

But things just fell into routine for a few weeks. 

Life adjusted. Hotshot adapted to having a partner in crime, Kenny adapted to being the more cool headed of the two. They fit together better every day.

Slowly, though, Hotshot noticed things. His scent changed again, but he didn't know what it meant. He started feeling sick sometimes, to the point he actually would throw up. 

He had no idea what was going on. Kenny, as panicked as his mate, took to the library to read up on his symptoms. He was scared that it might have been something deadly.

Instead it was quite the opposite. 

Hotshot was laid up in bed again because of his stomach pains. He was resting, hoping they'd go away, when his scared mate anxiously opened the curtain. 

"I found what's wrong." He said nervously, blue eyes filled with guilt. "And… It's not going to get any better. It's probably just going to get worse." He opened the book to the page he'd dog eared. 

Hotshot read one word. 'Pregnancy'. He felt sick. But not in the way he guessed was morning sickness. He was pregnant. There was a tiny person in him. Another mouth to feed, a body to keep warm, a life to nurture and raise in this world. 

Kenny panicked and tried to calm him down. "Hey, hey it's gonna be okay. I'll find a better job, we'll get our own place. We have time, we can get on our feet by the time the baby comes."

Hotshot looked at him like he was crazy. "You're Irish! No one's going to hire you, you've seen those signs! And I won't be able to work, it's just going to be you!" He was panicking. They weren't ready to be parents! He definitely wasn't ready. He didn't want a child. And now?! With winter coming and the temperature dropping? They didn't have an apartment! A place they could raise a child!

Kenny started panicking worse for Hotshot. He'd read that stress could cause a miscarriage. And those, he knew from experience, could be deadly. "Hey, it's okay. I'm almost 17, I can get a job in a factory, or with the mail. You won't have to worry, we'll work this out."

His words had no effect on the worrying. "We can't even stay here anymore! We'll be homeless! Homeless, pregnant, and it's almost winter!" Desperately ideas filled his head. He almost started crying. He was already attached to the tiny thing inside him. But why couldn't it have come at a better time? When they were older? When they could take care of a baby? They could never give it or any future kids a good start if they had kids now!

Kenny hugged him. "It's going to be okay. We can stay with Jack. He, Kath and Crutchie have a place. We can ask to stay with them until we get our own." He gently brushed the tears away. "We'll get through this. I promise you, we will."

That was how they stole away into the cold October night. Scared and far too young. 

And how they ended up at Kathrine Pulitzer-Kelly-Morris' doorstep. She was shocked by who was on her doorstep. She recognized the boys, she'd seen them during the strike and her occasional visits to the lodging house with Jack and Crutchie. But now they looked like they were planning to up and leave the state. "Um… What's with all the bags?

Hotshot stared up at her with a dead eyed stare. “I’m pregnant, and we can’t stay at the lodging house anymore.” His voice was weak. He seemed weak. 

Kath went into mama mode. “Inside, now. Both of you. You can stay on the couch." She'd put them up as long as they needed, she knew her boys wouldn't mind. And Crutchie would probably appreciate someone to complain about pregnancy to who would actually understand. 

They looked so grateful she almost adopted them there and then. She set up the couch as a bed, planning to inform Jack when he got home from work and Crutchie when he woke from his nap.

Hotshot curled up on the side furthest from the door. She could smell the stress from across the room. Remembering what had happened to her own mother, she felt for these two.

They were painfully unprepared. But hopefully, they'd prepare themselves before their nine months were up. 

Kenny covered Hotshot with a blanket and kissed his cheek. "I'll go out and look now, you stay here and rest." He'd scour the entire city for a job to support his newly growing family. 

He was painfully aware of how unlikely it was that they'd make it. But he had to try. So out he went to find good, steady work at near 17. 

Everywhere he asked, everywhere he tried, he seemed to get thinly veiled variations of the same answer. Or just the plain signs in the windows. 'No Irish Need Apply'.

Until finally, finally, he found somewhere. The post office was looking for carriers. He could do that. Walking around the city was no trouble, he'd always done it. He desperately begged them to let him try. 

By some miracle, they agreed. And since they really needed someone to cover the area, Kenny was to start that day with minimal training. 

He didn't get home till late, and his feet ached for the first time in years. But he was grinning. He'd earned a whole bunch of money by this one day! And paydays were Fridays, he'd get Sundays off, and he was truely set! They could do this!

He didn't register the stress that seeped from every person in the room. "I got a job!" He yelled excitedly.

Immediately, the blanket that covered Hotshot moved until his head was exposed. "You did?!"

Kenny sat down next to him and hugged him. "We'll be on our feet in at most a few months!" He exclaimed. "After that it should be smooth sailing!"

It wasn't.


	6. Houses and homes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brooklyn shows up.

Kenny worked every day he could. Some money had to go to food, and things for when the baby came, but it wasn't enough and it wasn't piling up fast. And Hotshot quickly couldn't work. 

Pregnancy wasn't kind to him. The fact he was constantly stressed didn't help. His belly started showing early, though that wasn't hard because he was so skinny. 

Kenny, with help from Kath and Jack, tried to keep a constant source of food coming. But even with three combined incomes it wasn't enough.

One day, Hotshot was stressed again. He was pacing back and forth while Crutchie watched, worried. "Don't tell me you're going back. You're three months along! You shouldn't be working, the stress is going to hurt you and the baby!"

Hotshot finally sat. To put on his shoes. "I'm working. Deal with it. It's gonna make me feel better at the least! I'd be contributing food money so Kenny can focus on an apartment." He grabbed his cap and the sleeveless button up. It hid his belly well. He'd be fine. He'd get his papers, hop on a trolly across the bridge, and sell in his old spot. 

Before Crutchie could even get his crutch, Hotshot was out the door. He walked confidently to the trolly and hopped on the back, planning to ride all the way to Brooklyn. 

He jumped off at the bridge and walked across, ignoring the pain in his feet. Another thing that had been so far from kind. His feet were already swelling. But he couldn't afford to care. He walked to the distribution gate. It was late enough for the noon edition. He could get his papers and scram fast.

But there were already people there. And all three of their heads snapped to him when they caught his scent. Hotshot froze. They knew. They'd either heard months ago or smelled it now. They'd run him out.

Spot started to approach him. Hotshot started breathing harder, panic setting in. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around his belly protectively. He wanted to say he would never think Spot would do something like that. But he'd seen what happened when Spot felt betrayed. He'd even been on the receiving end once before.

But this time, instead of a harsh yank to his hair, he was gently tapped on the shoulder. "Hotshot? It's just us." He said, impossibly gently for Spot fucking Conlon. 

Hotshot looked up a little, still guarding himself. Spot was nothing but sympathetic. 

Slowly, Hotshot stood up again. "You're not mad?" He asked quietly. 

Spot shook his head. "You scared the shit out of all of us. I gotta say though, I wasn't expecting…. This." He gestured vaguely to Hotshot's midriff. 

"It's not a bad thing!" Joey popped up. "Just surprising. We didn't think you was a-" She was cut off by Myron elbowing her.

Spot cleared his throat. "The point is, why the hell didn't you come back until now?" 

Hotshot looked at his feet. "I… I met a guy in Manhattan. My mate, Kenny. He's working for the mail now, but we can't put money to food and an apartment. So… I came back to find work for food money." He told the story in a hushed tone. He was still embarrassed that his secret was out. 

Those gathered exchanged a look before looking back at him. "We'll help." Spot said. "Not every day we get a pup in Brooklyn. We outta make sure it survives to see the place." 

And that sparked a brilliant idea in Hotshot. 

After selling far into the evening, he trekked across the bridge on very painful feet. He finally got home at sunset, to a frantic but waiting Kenny. 

Immediately he jumped up. "Where did you go, what happened?!" He checked Hotshot all over for injuries. He found nothing, but he was still terrified. "Hotshot, what happened?"

"I went out to get a job. And I have an idea." He crossed his arms. "What if we move to Brooklyn? It's cheaper." He points out. 

Kenny thought for a moment. "We should look… But my job is here. Unless they need a carrier in Brooklyn." He needed his job. It was what was keeping them afloat. 

Hotshot thought about it. He started started stressing. What if he lost his job? They'd have no money and nowhere to go! They couldn't afford to go to Brooklyn!

Kenny guided him to the couch and held him, trying to calm him down. Everything seemed terrible and off kilter. Hotshot cried himself to sleep, the exhaustion of the day catching up to him.

Kenny held him in his arms, planning to ask if there was an opening in Brooklyn. It was cheaper on the other side of the river. He had no other choices soon. Here he'd never have enough by the time the baby came.

He'd have to ask in the morning.

The next morning, true to his word, Kenny set out to ask about any openings in Brooklyn. He strode out to work, planning to ask before in case he could cover a shift there. 

His manager, a stern older Italian, looked him up and down. "You want to transfer to Brooklyn?" He asked for the third time.

Kenny nodded. "Yes sir." He was nervous, and despite his best efforts it was written on his face. 

The man stood up. "I know. I think my Brooklyn counterpart would appreciate it." He scribbled a note and gave it to him. "Give this to him. I'll just find another newsboy to replace you." He patted Kenny's shoulder. "Good luck kid."

Kenny had never run faster in his life. He arrived in the post office, note in hand, heaving breaths. 

The manager took the note and looked at him. 

"You're hired. Trojan! Show him the ropes!"

Kenny had never been more relieved in his life. They could do it. They really could.

**Author's Note:**

> *Bangs head on table* please comment or kudo. I died inside writing this. Tumblr where you can scream at me: @i-guarantee


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